The Drow Queen of Glaley [Very NSFW]

[Zevran]

Zevran wavers a hand. "We've fine vellum and parchment of course, but I was unsure whether you would wish to be, ah, crafty in some fashion for your reply."

[Coquette Blacquin]

"It would take too long to needlepoint a whole reply... how are you at painting?"

[Zevran]

"Nails and faces? Outstanding. Bodies? Good. Canvas?" He shrug a little. "Probably not good enough for this, unless we can spin it as a show of trust by way of showcasing a still developing skill."

[Coquette Blacquin]

She makes a face. "I was only ever decent at it. But I can try."

[Zevran]

"Sadly, all of my true skill in the arts is in performance or related fields," Zevran explains. "I could dance or recite or even sing something but aside from make-overs, I do not create, I display."

[Coquette Blacquin]

"A shame. Ah well. I will illustrate my letter I suppose... perhaps mice doing embroidery?"

[Zevran]

"Illustration? Ah, yes, I recall. If it helps, I am best at sketching, of all, ah, drawing related arts," Zevran offers as he ponders the proposed image. "Mice are a not uncommon treat down here, does that send an unwanted message?" He sounds uncertain, rather than just trying to delicately point something out.

[Coquette Blacquin]

"Oh -- they probably don't have the story of Cinders. Hmm. Perhaps birds, then? Like I embroidered for the Matriarch?"

[Zevran]

Zevran nods slowly. "Making birds something of a theme for yourself? Yes, I can see that working." He looks her over, then offers, "it suits you. That theme, I mean, particularly here. You favor your eleven blood in build, obviously, which could be linked to an avian motif without much effort. Embrace the exotic aspects of your beauty, highlight and celebrate them." He grins playfully. "To be clear, I am not suggesting you dress as a giant chicken, as amusing as that would be to witness. But adding hints of swan and hawk to your aesthetic? That could be very fetching."

[Coquette Blacquin]

Her eyes light up. "Wait here," she says quickly, rushing to the desk. A few long moments later and she's got a new sketch: a gown, feathers crossing it like the neck of a swan before it blooms into feathers along the bottom half, short in the front and draping to the floor in back. All in black, she indicates. "See what Marsha can do with this," she orders him. "She's the only tailor that's decent around here."

[Zevran]

Zevran's eyes are dark as he looks back up at her, a familiar darkness she's grown very fond of seeing from him. His eyes skim down her body, glancing back to the sketch, then back to her as he clearly pictures her in the outfit. "Magnificent," he says huskily.

[Coquette Blacquin]

She grins. "Right? I hope she can make it. I hope she can get the feathers.... I've seen fashion plates with something called pea-cocks that have brilliant green feathers that would be perfect for the train, but I doubt she can procure such."

[Zevran]

Zevran nods absently as she speaks, beginning to circle around her as she continues. "Perhaps other feathers could be dyed?" 

[Coquette Blacquin]

"They're patterned, and very large. Nevermind that, it's just a thought -- I should get to writing this reply."

[Zevran]

Pouting, Zevran leaves off his study of her, instead following behind as she readies to so that very thing. "So you are interested in teaching this, ah, Vessu then?"